


The Witch's Son

by chapmanchick



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Familiars, Humor, I diagnose you with older brother syndrome, M/M, Magic, Mythology References, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Sarcasm, Smut, Vampires, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:34:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22594195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chapmanchick/pseuds/chapmanchick
Summary: Rhown's mother leaves him in charge of the family homestead as she is needed in a far off kingdom. He is tasked with helping the heroes that cross their doorstep. Rhown doesn't actually think that any heroes will knock on their door, but man is he wrong. Several heroes, each more unpleasant than the last, bully and berate Rhown. And yet he still fulfills his witchly duty. His last visitor, a young girl, pulls at Rhown's heartstrings. He equips her as best as he can, and yet, he still feels at odds...
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 8
Kudos: 13





	The Witch's Son

“Rhown.”

“Rhown.”

“Rhown, you’re mother has been calling your name for twenty minutes. If you don’t wake up I’m sticking my tongue in your ear. Please don’t make me do that. I hate wax.”

Rhown woke up to a wet tongue sticking itself into his ear. He screeched and fell out of bed. A yelp informed him that the offending creature that had woken him up in such a manner had also been flung from the bed.

“Fuck, Stool, what the hell was that for?” Rhown asked as he leaned over the other side of the bed. Stool, his toad familiar and trying to orient himself in the pile of blankets down there. Once he was situated he gave a pointed glare to Rhown.

“Your mom wants you downstairs. Now. She seems to be quite peeved and in a hurry,” Stool shuffled off of the blankets and hopped to the door. Rhown groaned and slammed his face into the mattress. 

“I will stick my tongue in your ear again, don’t tempt me,” Stool threatened. Rhown groaned again, louder and more annoyed, muffled by the sheets, before popping up off the floor and heading downstairs. Rhown grabbed Stool up and placed him on his shoulder. It wouldn’t do to upset his mother this early in the morning.

The kitchen and the living room were in absolute chaos. Objects of all sorts were flying about at breakneck speeds. Large cloths were laid out on every available surface, and themed items congregated on each one. Bread, dried meats and fruits, nuts, vegetables, laid itself onto one cloth. Pots, pans, and cooking utensils on another. Then a third was laid up with brewing ingredients, enough of them that Rhown knew that it must have depleted nearly their entire stock. Rhown dodged a flying knife and the back door opened. Rhown’s mother walked through the open door way and the knife slid into its sheath at her hip.

“Ah, Rhown, it seems you’ve finally joined the land of the living,” Magnhilde, jabbed as she walked past him. She made her way to the cloths and flicked each of the corners up. The corners swirled upwards, shrinking and coming together. Magnhilde tossed three pieces of twine that firmly wrapped around each plum sized parcel. She picked them up and put the in the satchel that was around her abdomen.

“I take it you’re going on a trip? To the other end of the world it seems,” Rhown grabbed up a spare apple that failed to make it into the packaging and was floating ambiently. Magnhilde rolled her eyes at her son as she pooled the long brown hair over one shoulder to braid it. While there was enough food and supplies to support an army, Rhown noticed that all of the objects were his mothers, and not none were his own. He would not be joining her on this trip.

“Astute observation. I received a summons from King Troyan of Ilias. Apparently a coven has curse his kingdom but he’s unsure with what. I’m going to help and maybe stop this nonsense before the curse is enacted. Stay here in case some stray heroes find their way here.” Magnhilde flicked her sensible braid over her shoulder. Rhown took notice that she was wearing her leather armor, and nearly all of her knives were strapped into place.

“I didn’t think that Ilias was all that dangerous. You seemed very heavily armed. Should I be worried?” Rhown straightened up just as his mother’s familiar flew through the open window, a raven called Ravage.

“No of course not dear. The day a bandit gets the drop on me is the day I deserve to die. I simply do not want to walk into any small town mob unarmed, just in case. You know how people get with witches. Love them when it’s a love potion, hate them with a curse.” Magnhild wrapped her deep purple cloak around her shoulders, golden runes etched into the fabric for quick spell casting. She walked around the kitchen island and pulled Rhown into a tight embrace, placing a quick peck on his temple. Rhown knew better than to move away before she was ready.

“I’m leaving Ravage with you should you need any help. If you need to reach me, scry me. I know I've always brought you along with me before, but I think that you’re old enough to manage the house on you own now. Help out a stray hero if needs be. I love you.” Sarcasm laced Magnhild’s tone as she said hero. Rhown wrapped his arms around his mother. Excitement and trepidation curled around his organs.

“When should I expect you back? Also, when was the last time a hero stumbled on our doorstep, really?” Rhown leaned a little ways back, looking up at his mother.

“Oh, no more than a few months, at the latest. I’ll probably have this mess cleaned up in a matter of weeks. And yes, heroes rarely knock on our door, but it can always happen. And remember Rhown, play nice. Heroes, like everyone else in the world, have short tempers with witches. I love you. May the Maiden watch over you and our home.” Magnhilde finally released Rhown gave him small wink. She walked to the entryway and grabbed up her staff. A purple hued gem glimmered at the top.

“Love you, bye. See you when you get back. May the Mother watch over you in your travels.” Rhown waved as his mother stepped out the door, a final wave of her fingers in farewell, open yellow fields behind her.

It hadn’t been a week when the first of the heroes knocked on the door. Pounded, though, would be the correct term. Rhown was brewing forget-me-not for a family in a neighboring village; Grandma was starting to forget things. Stool, who had been on his favorite perch on Rhown’s shoulder had nearly fallen into the bubbling blue brew when the door shook with the force of the heroes’ fist. Ravage, who had been sleeping on her wooden perch, squacked and rumbled her feathers. Not wanting to ruin the potion, Rhown figured the stranger could wait as he finished adding the ingredients. He just needed to add in the dried purple and blue petals before the potion was to simmer overnight.

The hero did not seem to share the same opinion. The banging returned. Rhown rolled his eyes but figured the potion wouldn’t be ruined now that the petals were added. He took Stool off of his shoulder and placed him on the counter before heading to the door.

“Can I help you?” Rhown asked as he swung the door open abruptly. A sour faced woman in steel armor stood in front of him. She had frizzy, dull, red hair that was tied back with a piece of leather, and skin several shades darker than his own.

"Is this where of Witch of the Woods lives?" Demanded the woman. Her hand rested on her sheathed sword. Rhown felt one of his necklace charms flare up. A quick look down told him that it was the translation charm, meaning that Rhown and this knight were speaking two different languages. It was a nifty charm to have in their line of work, and Rhown was glad one of his ancestors thought of it. He neither had the patience to configure finicky charms like the translator, nor to learn hundreds of languages.

"Yes, it is," Rhown leaned against the door frame, pulling the door close to him. He did not invite her in, but she pushed past him anyways. Rhown rolled his eyes, already exasperated with the newcomer.

"So where is she? I'm in a hurry and need to be on my way as soon as possible. It's an urgent matter." It was an odd sight, seeing a shining knight in his home. Rhown did not like it, nor her for that matter.

"She's not here, and won't be back for some time." Rhown snapped. He planted his feet firmly and kept the door open so he could quickly expel the woman if needs be. Ravage ruffled her feathers in agitation. The woman looked back at Rhown. Her gaze racked him up and down, appraising him.

“You’ll do, apprentice,” was her snide remark. Rhown took a step back, and he glared at her. He hadn’t been his mother’s apprentice in years.

“Okay. Well, I am so glad that I meet your standards. How may I be of service to you?” Sarcasm dripped from his tongue, but the knight didn’t seem to notice. Are all heroes as self-centered and oblivious as this one? Rhown surely hoped not.

“I have been tasked with slaying the dragon that has taken the king's daughter. All other knights have failed. I need a sure way to rescue the princess before the dragon does irreparable damage.” The knight stated. She did not seem worried in the least, but Rhown did notice small fidgets from her fingers. Rhown mulled over his thoughts before nodding, however reluctantly. He didn’t want to, but it is his duty as a witch to help heroes in need. Even if said heroes were assholes, the people that they saved needed his help more than his pride needed saving.

“Yes, I do believe that I can help you. However, this is a witch’s den, and so you must play by the witch’s rules. Leave your weapons and armor at the door. There is a river out back, wash yourself in it. When you come back, we’ll have dinner, and you’ll sleep in the guest room. Then, in the morning, we will discuss your gifts and your payment.” Magic rippled throughout the house. Object on the shelves and walls quaked in his rage. The knight looked unsettled, but not afraid of him. She followed through with his rules and dropped her things as she left.

Rhown flicked his wrist and the kitchen sprung to life. The second fireplace roared to life. It is very important that witches keep two fireplaces, one for potions and another for food. Weird things happen when the two are mixed. Knives chopped vegetables and meat, the aggressive sound of steel slicing and banging against the wood countertops rang through the small house. Moments later all of the ingredients launched themselves into the cauldron, and bubbled away. Rhown plopped down in his armchair and glowered into the flames. He felt a pressure in his forehead as his Sight awakened. In the fire he saw the dragon, nestled high up a mountain in a cave. The princess was deep within, and was not in good shape. Fire streamed continuously from the dragon’s mouth, and its eyes were wild with madness. As loathed as Rhown was to kill a dragon, this one was a danger. The knight came in minutes later, dripping hair clinging to her face and clothes. The two spent dinner and the evening in glowering silence before the knight went to bed. 

Rhown went over to where the knight had neatly pile her armor and weapons. He grabbed up her sword (and he didn’t levitate it thank you very much, Stool) and boots. He place the objects on the counter. He charmed the boots to grip any surface. The sword he strengthened with resilience, to pierce even a dragons hide. And finally, he grabbed a fire opal from his own stores, hidden in a box on one of the many shelves that lined the small house. He charmed it so that the wearer may always be impervious to dragon’s breath. The stone he placed into a charmed bag before he retired to bed himself.

In the morning, Rhown presented these gifts to the knight on one condition. After she slays the dragon and saves that princess, she is to collect as much of the dragon’s scales as would fit in the enchanted bag that he gave her. The knight agreed to the terms, and off she went.

~*~

Not long after, there was another knock on the door, this time far more gentle. Rhown was greeted with a wind-swept sailor, crusted with salt. The two eyed one another before the stranger spoke.

“My name is Caius, and I have been sent by my gods on a perilous journey to reclaim my throne, stolen from me by my uncle. With me are other heroes, trying to prove our worth. Before we continue any longer, we must ask that you host us on your beach for one night, O Beautiful Witch.” the hero supplicated. Rhowns’ translator charm flared again. He rolled his eyes and looked behind the prince to the lot setting up camp on the sandy beach behind the prince. 

“You may stay, since you’ve already set up camp.” Rhown went to shut the door, but the prince held it open.

“The revelry is sure to start soon. Would like to join us?” The prince dazzled Rhown with his smile. Rhown looked to Stool, who was perched on his shoulder. Stool shrugged as much as a toad could. Rhown rolled his eyes again, but grabbed the prince’s proffered had. What did he have to lose?

“May I ask your name and your familial relations, Little Witch? You bear a strong resemblance to the witch Circe. Do you know her?” Caius asked. Rhown puffed out his cheeks with angry air and glared at the hero.

“Excuse you, just because your bred from giants does not mean I am little!” Rhown huffed out. Caius stared wide eyed at Rhown, as if he did not quite believe his words.

“Forgive me if I cause insult, Beautiful Witch. It seems that my people may be larger than yours, for I guarantee every person on my ship would dwarf you.” Rhowns’ glare fiercened, which led to Caius trying to take back his words.

“Not that anyone will think you weak of course! You can do miracles that we muscled-bound types could only imagine!” Caius finished up, looking imploringly at Rhown. Rhown himself couldn’t contain the burst of laughter that erupted from his lips.

“Muscled-bound!” Rhown cackled. He brought a hand up to his mouth to try and stifle his laughs, to no avail. Not long after, though, Rhown could feel rough, calloused hands take his hand in theirs. Rhown opened his eyes and blinked away his tears of laughter and saw that Caius was cradling Rhown’s hand in his own. Next to the prince, Rhown thin wrist and fingers looked as delicate as glass. Rhown looked up to Caius, who looked at him with too much gentleness for two people who had just met. Caius brought Rhown’s hand to his lips and places a soft kiss on the back of Rhown’s hand. Rhown felt the blood rush up his neck, his ears, and his entire face. Caius continued to pepper kisses along Rhown’s hand, maintaining eye contact the entire time. Rhown was positively wooed. 

“You didn’t tell me if you have any relations with the witch Circe, and I am dying to know.” Caius spoke, at last lowering Rhown’s hand. Though Rhown still didn’t gain possession of his limb back. Caius kept the hand held firm, rubbing small circles into the skin.

“Oh, well, yes. Circe was my grandmother.” Rhown finally admitted. That wasn’t his grandmother's real name, however. There was one point, as a young witchling, that was very confused by the notion that his mother held many names. She was Mom to him, and Magnhilde to all of the other witches that they knew. So why would these strangers that waltzed into their home call her by names that were not hers. Magnhilde had explained to him that this was a way of protecting witches from all others. By taking several names, witches created illusions that there were many, instead of one. The world has no idea how few of them there were, and it is imperative that it stays this way.

“I knew it! I have never met her, but the stories, those I have heard. Eyes of molten, dark hues, the same as Mother Gaia. Cheek bones that can slice through waves better than any trireme, and earth tone hair, that in the sun shone gold. You’re a myth brought to life, Little Witch.” All through his speech, Caius had touched just under his eyelids, traced his cheek bones, and twirled his curls between his fingers. Rhown’s breathe froze in his chest.

“Rhown. My name is Rhown.” He breathes out, finally.

“Rhown. A fitting name for a beautiful witch.” Caius’ eyes darted to the beach where it seemed that the reverelly had already begun. “Why don’t we join the party Rhown. I’m sure they’re missing us,” Caius said with a wink. Hand in hand, the two walked down to the edge of the shore, music and laughter encompassing them.

Once they reached the sand, Caius situated Rhown on a piece of hefty driftwood before leaving to find food and drink. Rhown a wet tongue in his ear.

“Fucking hell, Stool!” Rhown exclaimed as he flailed to wipe the spittle from his ear.

“Don’t go falling in love with every hero you meet! It’s unbecoming of a witch!” Stool chastised.

“Um, excuse me, but I held no romantic feelings for that dumb knight.” Rhown defended himself, before realizing his mistake. “And I don’t feel anything for Caius either. He simply has better manners than the knight.” Rhown huffed and didn’t make eye contact with Stool.

“Sure thing, O Beautiful Witch,” Stool teased. Rhown was about to banish the familiar back to the hut, but he was interrupted by two newcomers, a man and a woman. Both wore similar clothing, light cloth that was draped over their forms. Their arms were free, and so were most of their legs. In contrast, Rhown did not even have his collarbone exposed. He wasn’t uncomfortable, per se, but he did feel the cultural differences.

“Caius just told us that a beautiful witch had joined in out nightly revelry! I must say, he did not exaggerate,” spoke the man. He was tall and blond and muscular. In the dim night light, Rhown couldn’t make out his eyes. The woman nodded in agreement, dark tresses falling over her shoulder.

“Indeed he did not! A wondrous party guest!” She exclaimed. “Let me introduce us. My name is Agatha and this is Dion.” She spoke. The two sat down on either side Rhown, far too close for comfort, and that wasn’t all. Nearly as soon as the two sat down could Rhown feel a hand on his hip and another on his shoulder, way too close to his neck. Rhown immediately jumped away from them, muttering apologies as he sped away.

It was not the only instance that night. It seemed that nearly every prince, princess, hero, and seaman was trying to get him into their bedrolls that night. There were so many, and their advances never stopped. Flushed crimson, and starting to panic, Rhown casted a Notice-Me-Not and escaped to the edges of the party. Rhown took Stool off of his shoulder and cradled him to ease his shot nerves. But it wasn’t just that. Witches were solitary beings, usually living by themselves or with one other. Their gatherings were few and far between. This “revelry” was a different beast. People were everywhere, loud, excitable, and quite drunk. Never had Rhown been around so many people, and the close proximity with them had his skin crawling.

It was a while later, after he had calmed down enough, that Rhown saw Caius, who was making his way to Rhown. He moved slowly and steadily, as if not to scare Rhown off, like he was some woodland creature. (Which isn’t entirely incorrect, depending on where the house wanted to be). Finally, Caius drew up next to Rhown, but made sure to keep plenty of distance between the two. Caius smiled at Rhown, an apology twinkling in his eyes.

“I’m sorry for them. They’re used to getting their ways immediately, and don’t know when to stop. I’ll be talking with them about this in the morning. I think that they are all a little too far gone at the moment to appreciate such a lecture.” Caius spoke softly and gently, much different than his abrasive counterparts. Rhown looked out to the party, and indeed, many inhibitions were being tossed to the side. Rhown had no desire to rejoin the party.

“I-I’m just not super great with crowds. Being a witch and all, we like our alone time,” Rhown laughed nervously, looking at Caius through his lashes. Caius hummed in agreement, a smirk twitching onto his lips. The two, well three since Stool was still held in Rhown’s lap, sat in comfortable silence, watching at the party continued to rage. When the two did talk, it was in soft conversation, and about little snippets of their two very different lives. Rhown was fascinated with the different culture Caius presented, and vice versa. Eventually Stool fell asleep, and so Rhown shifted the familiar’s position to be on top of his bed in the house. Caius and Rhown had shifted together, a little bit over time, until their thighs were aligned. Rhown could feel Caius’ heated gaze on him.

“Tomorrow we will leave. Would you give me a night to remember on this perilous journey?” Caius asked. Rhown snorted and rolled his eyes at Caius’ subtlety. But a fond smile made its way onto him lips. A blush crept up Rhown’s neck and he jerked his head in yes. A euphoric grin spread across Caius’ face, and he led the witch to his tent.

Caius closed the tent flaps tightly chut before turning around to face Rhown. Rhown was flushed and his heart was hammering. Caius stepped closer to Rhown, grabbing both of his hands, until they were chest to chest. Rhown’s breath quickened. Caius raised his large hands and gently held Rhown’s face. Rough calluses cradled his face, caressing supple skin. Rhown’s eyes fluttered shut at the unexpected comfort. He opened his eyes and looked up at Caius, whose soft smile made him melt. 

“Hush Little Witch. I will do you no harm tonight, and you can leave at any moment. But if you decide to stay, I promise that I will take care of you.” Caius’ deep voice soothed Rhown’s stuttering mind. His shaky breath was still present, but very much diminished. Rhown looked into Caius’ deep blue eyes and nodded.

Caius bent down slowly until their lips were pressed together. His lips were chapped and rough, and they rubbed against Rhown’s tender lips. The two shared a few more innocent kisses before Caius deepened them. Caius grabbed tighter to Rhown, pressing their bodies flush to one another. On instinct, Rhown also grabbed hold of Caius, fisting the back of his chiton, feeling the rolling muscles underneath.

Caius surrounded Rhown, a living blanket of golden skin and taut muscles, and Rhown moaned at the pleasure of the encompassing heat. Caius took advantage, and his tongue delved deep. Rhown’s moans simple grew louder. After a few breathless moments Caius pulled away and a whimper escaped from Rhown. Rhown’s lips felt swollen and his eyes were glazed, but Caius wasn’t faring much better. Caius looked Rhown up and down before pulling a face.

“You witches wear far too many clothes,” was his simple statement. As if to prove his point, Caius flicked a piece of linen draped over his shoulder off, and the whole piece fell to the ground. Caius stood fully naked, his proud half hard cock on display.

Rhown licked his lips.

Rhown meat Caius’ gaze and smirked.

“Maybe so, but we witches have a few tricks up out sleeves.” Rhown snapped his fingers, leaving him just as nude as Caius.

“A neat trick indeed,” Caius responded, a devilish smirk dancing on his lips. In one swift move Caius picked Rhown up and tossed him onto the soft pallet before launching himself ontop of the witch. 

Thei lips clashed together, much more feverish and toothy, but neither complained. Rhown’s arms swiftly wrapped themselves around Caius’ shoulders. One hand delved into thick black curls and the other mapped out the rolling muscles. Caius had one arm propped above Rhown’s head to insure he did not crush the other. His free hand explored across Rhown’s collarbone, down his sternum. He reached his intended goal, and flicked one of Rhown’s nipples, who was caught completely by surprise. Rhown arched fully into Caius, their lips breaking apart, an a truly wanton moan escaped from Rhown. Shocking himself, Rhown shoved one of his hands in his mouth, embarrassed by the sound.

“Now, now, who said you could stop?” Caius teased. He moved to kiss along Rhown’s jawline before nipping at his ear, causing Rhown to squeak and biting down on his knuckle. Caius had to tug his earlobe a few times before Rhown got the hint and replaced his hand in Caius’ hair. Caius gave a soft kiss to the corner of Rhown’s jaw.

“So I take it that you liked that?” Caius asked. He tweaked the nipple again, eliciting another squeak.

“Yeah, that,” Rhown gasped out, “Do that.” The words fumbled out inelegantly.

“Your wish is my command,” Caius rumbled in Rhown’s ear before continuing his ministrations. He tugged and twisted and soothed the little nub, before switching his arms to torment the other one. More and more sinful noises left Rhown’s mouth as his torment continued, increasing in volume. Caius was kissing every patch of skin he could find, his jaw, neck, collarbone. He continued working his way down until his lips replaced his hand. Teeth teased at the nub, and Rhown couldn’t stop his hips from rutting against Rhown. Their cocks rubbed together, setting fire to Rhown’s whole body. Caius never stopped his assault, but his free hand wandered down, counting Rhown’s ribs and tracing patterns into this side, before landing on his hip, holding him down.

“So impatient. There will be plenty of time for that later.” Caius said, pulling himself up just enough to give Rhown a mocking grin. Rhown tried to break Caius’ hold on his hip but Caius would not budge. A frustrated growl ripped through Rhown. The hand in Caius’ hair tugged painfully.

“Well get fucking to it,” Rhown snapped. Without further ado, Caius switched sides and began his torture on the other nipple, which had Rhown’s head whipping back as he arched into the mouth. Unable to get any friction on his cock, Rhown took his aggression out on the skin of Caius’ back, racking angry red lines into the golden skin.

When both nipples were appropriately swollen Caius kissed and sucked his way down Rhown’s chest and stomach until he reached his goal. Hot breath teased Rhown’s cock, but it was the sultry gazed that had him selling his soul to the devil. Eye contact never breaking, Caius licked up Rhown length before taking all of him down. Rhown threw his head back and tried to arching into Caius’ scalding warm mouth, but now the prince had both of his hands holding Rhown down. To make up for it, Rhown buried both of his hands into Caius’ black curls, and pulled. Rhown could feel Caius’ rumbling laughed vibrate around his cock, and it was like a dam had broken.

“Oh, fuck. Oh gods, oh gods, oh fucking hell!” The words tumbled out in an unstoppable litany as Caius went to town. He sucked Rhown’s head, licking into the slit, before taking him down. He worked back up before kissing back down, and mouthing at Rhown’s balls. Rhown was swiftly becoming an incoherent mess. But as soon as Rhown felt his orgasm coming, Caius popped off. Not only that, but he stood up and walked away from Rhown, fully turning his back on him as he rummaged through one of his bags. Rhown stared at him in disbelief.

“I’m going to fucking kill you Caius,” Rhown hissed, flames sparking to life along his fingertips. Caius laughed, but didn’t even turn around to acknowledge the mess he left behind. Rhown narrowed his eyes before deciding to take matters into his own hands. He extinguished the flames before he started pumping himself in ernest, eyes locked onto Caius’ backside. 

Caius seemed to have found what he was looking and turned around. His gaze darken as he took Rhown in, chasing his pleaser. Caius pounced on Rhown, yanking both of his hands above his head. 

“Oh fuck you, you fucking bastard,” Rhown snarled at him, tears prickling in his eyes. Caius grinned down at him, but did not move. They held that position, Rhown’s chest heaving as he dragged angry breaths in, until his orgasm was well and truly ruined. Caius released his hands and sat up, resting his weight on his haunches, right above Rhown’s pelvis. Rhown’s gaze rested on Caius’ own angry, swollen cock. He wrapped one of his now freed hands around it and began pumping, Caius’ breath catching. Rhown smirked up, reveling in regaining some power back.

“Aw, poor baby. Has someone been neglected?” Rhown teased, thumbing at the head.

“You little minx,” Caius breathed out. Rhown didn’t pay much attention to the comment, so entranced was he by the engorged member in his hand. A small voice in his head told Rhown that he should be scared of the damage that such a monster could do to him, but his traitorous horny mind only wanted to drool at the sight. So entranced was he that he had not noticed Caius’ move to pick something up until rough hands rubbed circled into his hip.

“You back with me baby?” Caius asked. Rhown flushed and nodded. Caius smiled.

“Good, because I want you present for this next part.” Caius held a bottle in his hands, a jar of oil. He unstoppered the tom and poured a generous helping of oil on his fingers and hand. He placed the bottle down and repositioned himself between Rhown’s legs. Rhown licked his lips in anticipation. He grabbed Rhown’s leg and swung it over his shoulder. His picked up the jar again and poured another helping onto his twitching hole. Rhown moaned as the cold liquid ran down and dripped onto the blankets beneath them. Once Caius deemed he had enough oil, he stoppered the jar and gave Rhown a lustful grin. He leaned down and brushed his lips against Rhown as he swirled one finger around Rhown’s hole.

“Are you ready?” Caius asked. Rhown nodded frantically, too distracted by the teasing finger.

“Words, Rhown. I need words from you before we continue,” Caius reiterated. Rhown had to swallow a few times before he croaked out a quiet “yes.”

And with that confirmation Caius pushed his finger into Rhown. Rhown jolted up at the intrusion, grabbing onto Caius, who stilled his hand and wrapped his free arm around Rhown, pulling him flush. Rhown buried his face in Caius’ neck, embarrassed. It was not what he expected it to feel like, at all. All the while Caius rubbed soothing circles into Rhown’s back.

“Better?” Caius asked. Confident in his inability to speak, Rhown mouthed a “yes” into Caius’ skin. Caius’ finger started to move again. 

It was odd, to say the least, but not unpleasant. Rhown decided he loved being wrapped in Caius’ embrace, as the other gently opened him up. One finger became two, and two became three, all the while Rhown continued to melt into Caius. Then, three became nothing. Rhown moved his head from Caius’ neck and looked at him in momentary confusion. Caius returned his gaze with his out look of adoration. Rhown flushed adn and pulled kissed Caius down to kiss him to hide his embarrassment. Caius grabbed Rhown’s thighs and lifted him up before aligning himself, and lowering Rhown down slowly on his cock. 

Cock was so much better than fingers, Rhown quickly decided. He had thrown his head back and was moaning freely. Caius had buried his face in Rhown’s neck and was panting as he placed open-mouthed kisses along the pale skin. Caius was running his hands up and down Rhown’s sides until Rhown was completely seated. A wry thought crossed Caius mind, and one hand wandered to Rhown’s taut stomach and pressed down. Rhown’s eyes rolled back and CAius chuckled.

“Why don’t I take it from here?” He asked. Rhown muttered a hushed “please” and was lowered back onto the soft blankets. And then Caius moved. Rhown’s eyes shot opened and he gazed at Caius’ face just inches above his own. Caius’ eyes were half lidded, showing that he was in just as much pleasure at Rhown was. His pace was gently, and slow, and all consuming. But Rhown wanted more. He wrapped his arms and legs around Caius, Pulling him down. He whispered one word into Caius’ ear.

“Move.”

Caius slammed into Rhown, sending sparks up his spine. Caius lips were back on Rhown’s neck, sucking bruises into his skin, and Rhown’s nails were again carving red lines into skin. The two moaned and writhed and gasped with one another. 

Every few thrusts that Caius pounded into Rhown he changed his angle. Rhown didn’t know why and didn’t really care, until he did.

Sparks flew in front of his eyes, and sparks flew from his fingertips as Rhown arched fully into Caius. Rhown was left gasping for air.

“Founded it,” was Caius’ only remark, seeming not to care about the burns that must be scattered across his back. And then he continued pounding into that one spot. Rhown lost all sense of self, and it took all of his control to reign his magic back in. The two were rocking together in time, their moans filling the air. It wasn’t long after that Rhown’s orgasm rushed through him, his vision going white before his body turned to jelly. Caius quickened his pace, and spilled deep into Rhown. Caius collapsed on top of Rhown, crushing him for just a moment before e rolled the two of them over. Rhown’s head was pillowed on Caius’ chest, their legs tangled together, and Caius’ strong arms holding Rhown close. Warm and content, Rhown looked up at Caius with a gaze filled with bliss and adoration. Caius started to say something, but Rhown’s eyes were already shutting, and Rhown fell into a deep sleep.

Rhown woke slowly, feeling sticky and sore in all the right places. A lazy, content smile danced on his lips. After a few minutes of trying to go back to sleep, Rhown gave up and rolled to the other side of the pallet he slept on, searching for heat. Only, he found nothing up cold blankets where Caius should have been. Rhown sat up, rubbing the palms of his hands into his eyes. Rhown wrapped a blanket around himself and set out to find where the prince had wandered off to.

It was still dark out, and Rhown looked to the stars, who twinkled back. The camp was quiet, the party having been long over. Most of the revelers were able to make it back to their own tents, but a few had the misfortune of passing out on the grainy sand. Rhown gingerly stepped over each passed out body. Most of the fires as well were smoldering heaps now, but there was one a little ways off that held a more orangey glow. Rhown figured if Caius was anywhere, it would probably be there.

He wasn’t wrong, and Caius wasn’t alone, two other voices mingled with his own. Rhown’s view of the trio was blocked by a tent. Rhown was about to step around the tent when the voices washed over him, and his blood ran frigid.

“...after last night, of course he’ll come with us.” That was Caius.

“Thank the gods. I was beginning to think no one would be able to get him in bed, since he was refusing everyone’s advances.” That was a woman. Rhown couldn’t pinpoint which of the heroes she was.

“He just needed a gentler touch, like a spooked animal.” Caius.

“Well thanks for taking one for the team. Quests are so much easier when witches are on board. Plus, having someone as dainty as him will be a blessed relief from all of you.” Another man. Salty tears raced down Rhown’s cheeks and ragged breaths tore themselves from his chest. He held tighter to the blanket wrapped around him, hoping it would hold him together, but rage boiled in his veins. The tent in front of him caught white flames. He heard shouts from the other side, and when the tent’s support collapsed, Rhown walked barefoot through the flames. 

“Yes, thank you Caius, for taking one for the team. Truly, it means a lot.” Anger, wet and raw clogged Rhown’s throat as spat the words out. Without looking up to see Caius, Rhown turned on his heel and raced up the beach to his home. He heard Caius call out after him, and when Rhown didn’t stop, Caius raced after him. Caius was stronger and faster and soon caught up to Rhown, but Rhown wasn’t going to become a caught witch. Rhown stopped dead in his tracks, a wall of blue flames erupting at his back cutting him off from the rest of the beach, and Caius. The Prince swore as he tried to stop, the heat of the flames singeing him. Rhown turned his head just enough to see Caius out of the corner of his eye. He raised his hand to the house and the windows and doors shuttered. They all flung open, and three objects flew out from the small house, hurtling through the air and through the fire. A rope, shield, and spear crashed at Caius’ feet.

“Never let is be said the I failed to live up to my side of the contract,” venom flew from Rhown’s mouth before he finished sprinting up to the house. When the flames died down, a line of glass crossed the beach.

Rhown ignored the third knock, choosing to focus on rewriting the family grimoire. 

A fourth knock on the door. This one was tiny, hesitant, something that Rhown felt more through the house’s wards than actually hearing. Rhown groaned and rolled his head back, hitting the edge of the tub. Thick puffs of steam wrapped around him and journeyed to the ceiling, unable to find escape. The door to the bathroom opened and Ravage flew through. Thankfully, due to the lotions and potions Rhown had thrown into the water, he didn’t have to worry about his modesty with the familiar.

“You know, I have half a mind to not put anything on and open the door this way. Show all of these heroes that I am not at their beck and call.” Rhown muttered to the bird and slouched further into the water.

“I would recommend not doing that, on behalf of the little girl outside,” Ravage retorted. She pecked at the mirror. It swirled and revealed a young girl shivering just outside their door. Rhown was alarmed. With two spells, Rhown was dried and dressed, and racing to fling open the door.

The girl was a shivering, tattered mess. The dress she wore was poorly sewn but made of thick wool, which is probably the only reason she was still alive. A grey dress and grey tights were the only clothes she had. The clothes themselves were torn and ripped, dyed brown at the cut edges. Black hair hung in dirty tendrils around her face and she had her arms wrapped around her body. Pale blue eyes peered through snow-flake encrusted eyelashes up at Rhown. In a small, weak voice she asked this:

“It this the hut of Baba Yaga?” A harsh shiver ran through her whole body.

“Yes it is, come in.” Rhown had to refrain coddling the little girl. The mention of Baba Yaga, one of his mother’s more ruthless names, sent chills down his spine. No one asked for that witch’s help, only her head. What could possibly have been horrifying enough to come to Baba Yaga’s home? Rhown looked out at the bone fence before letting the girl in.

“Baba Yaga is not here right now.” Panic immediately filled the girls eyes as soon as he said those words, but he continued. “But I am her son. Whatever you have need of her, I can supply. What is your name, and why do you seek her?” The girl settled, but a haunting look filled her gaze, one that should never be in the eyes of one so young. She opened her mouth several times before closing it again, and tears filled her eyes and another shiver raced up her spine. Rhown moved to sit on a couch, his body language lazy even though he was as tight as a bow string. The girl followed suit, perched on the edge of a cushion. He gentle increased the heat of the fire.

“I’m making tea, would you like any?” Rhown spoke softly but disinterested, not wanting to scare or disturb the girl further. Only one other had ever asked for Baba Yaga’s help that Rhown could recall, and he knew that kindness would be perceived as a trick. His heart ached for the little girl. She gave a single, jerky nod.

Rhown got up, bringing the kettle with him into the kitchen. He waved two mugs and tea leaves over to him. Stool was on the counter but stayed quiet and Ravage was on her perch, her black eyes never leaving the girl. Rhown made the tea and floated the girls mug to her. Before he sent out milk and sugar she was downing the burning liquid. Acting in haste, Rhown dropped the temperature of the tea. He breathed a sigh of relief when she gave no signs of discomfort. Finishing his tea, Rhown turned to find the stew bubbling away in the fireplace. He filled two bowls and settled on the rug before the fire, facing the little girl.

The two ate in tense silence. Rhown tried to think of the last time someone so young came knocking at their door, but he was at a loss. Mom, what would you do? He thought to himself. The girl demolished her food, ravenous, and yet there was another sense of urgency to her. When she had finished, the girl placed her dishes on the floor. She sat up straight and told her tale.

“I come from a village at the base of the mountain. Above us, in a dark castle, lives an evil man. For all my life, every year the monster demands a sacrifice. The elders are the ones to choose, and everyone hides in their homes, hoping they and their family will live to see the dawn.

“It’s only been me and my sister, since mama died,” her tale diverged. She twisted her hands together, and Rhown noticed the split skin and redness. 

“Yesterday- yesterday, it was our door the elders knocked on. They took her, they took my sister! I don’t care if that monster destroys the village, I have to get my sister back, I need her back!” The girls shouting devolved into sobs. “You have to help me get her back. She’s all I have!” Rhown felt the wave of the girls emotions slam over him. He wasn’t much of an empath, but children were different, and the raw emotions, fear, love, determination, courage, nearly overwhelmed Rhown. The girl looked so small and vulnerable as heavy sob wracked her small frame. Rhown pulled her towards him, and she didn’t resist. In fact, she all but melted into his embrace. Rhown wrapped his arms around her as she sobbed into his chest.

“Okay, I’ll help. I’ll make sure you get your sister back, alright?” Rhown cooed, petting her hair down. Her crying subsided, and as she calmed down she pulled away from Rhown, wiping at her eyes.

“What- what is your price?” she asked. Rhown shifted uncomfortably. He didn't want anything for her, but Baba Yaga never did anything for free. Rhown thought a moment.

“How about you give me some information about yourself? Your name? Age?” Rhown hummed. “And a lock of your hair?” The girl shook her head.

“No name. Sister always said that if a Witch gets your name, they’ll keep you forever!” She glared at Rhown. Rhown held his hands up to placate her.

“Okay, okay, then how about just your age, and that lock of hair.” The girl nodded. Rhown motioned for her to sit on a worn wooden stool while he searched for a pair of scissors.

“I’m turned nine this fall.” The girl sat dutifully. Rhown grinned, remembering all of the times his mother that set him on that stool to give his hair a trim. Unlike this girl, he fought every second of it, which usually ended with him bound from neck to foot in a layer of immobilizing spells. Rhown returned with the scissors.

“What a coincidence! My birthday is also in the fall!” Rhown grabbed a piece of black hair and snipped it off. He placed the lock in a glass jar and set aside for later. “All done!” he proclaimed. The girl stood up and began fidgeting with her hands again.

“While I make your tools, why don’t you go down that hallway and take a nice bath. The door on the left is the bathroom, and the door on the right is the spare room. I’ll wake you with the rising sun.” The girl merely nodded as she headed down the hallway. Rhown looked between Stool and Ravage again as the bathroom door slammed shut. Rhown grabbed up the vial with the girls hair and the crystal ball. Holding the hair in his hand, Rhown cast a searching spell in hopes to find the sister. It didn’t take long.

A young woman was in a dingy tub being washed by several old women. She looked exactly like her younger sister; black hair, blue eyes, pale skin. She was hopeless, vacant. Rhown turned his gaze towards the mountain, the castle on top, and the monster within. The man inside the fortress was smug and vile, and Rhown knew exactly what manner of monster this was. Deathly pale skin, glowing red eyes, and fanged teeth. Vampire. 

Rhown was deeply unsettled. He looked around the cluttered living space, begging the mess to give him answers. To face a vampire at nine years old, Rhown was going to have to give her more than a few trinkets that were laying around. His eyes settled on the closet door. A sudden memory and inspiration hit him. Rhown riffled through the outer garments until he found what he was looking for. Just behind his own green and gold cloak hung unused in the corner, was an unfinished cloak.

His mother really was a hoarder. Rhown thought as he pulled out a short red cloak. He and his mother had the idea to make a cloak like theirs, but instead of using the gold thread, using one that matched the cloak, so red, like this one. It would help should either of them be in situations where they did not want to be a known witch. It was tricky since normal threads don’t hold spells the same ways the gold did and the project fell to the wayside for more pressing matters. Now, there was nothing more pressing. Rhown grabbed up the sewing kit and the grimoire. Without further ado, several needles poise and spells on his tongue, Rhown got to work.

The rising suns’ piercing beams blinded Rhown just as he finished his last stitch. He had spent all night sewing spells into the fabric. Rhown cast one last spell. The girl wouldn’t be able to cast these spells herself, so he put sensors on them to be triggered when needed. Because of the thread, each spell would probably last only once. He blinked slowly, clearing the sleep from his eyes.

“I’ll go wake the girl? Ravage can start breakfast?” Stool offered from somewhere near Rhown’s feet. Ravaged cawed softly from behind him. Rhown nodded and saw Stool hop down the hallway. He felt Ravage’s magic as it swirled into the kitchen followed by the clanging of pots and pans. Rhown stared into nothingness.

A few minutes later the girl emerged from her room, clothed in more winter appropriate clothing. She was clean, well-rested, and warm. Rhown was glad that the sleeping spell was carved into the doorway of the guest bedroom. No one made a sound all though breakfast. Once all the food was cleared, Ravage rolled a sealed parcel into the girls hand, food for the road. Rhown grabbed the cloak. The girl made a grab for it, but he pulled it back. He looked at he firmly.

“Before I give you this, you have to promise me one thing. Do not confront the monster. You will sneak into the castle, find your sister, and sneak out. That is all. Is that clear?” The girl nodded her head and Rhown wrapped the cloak around her. Moments later she was gone.

Rhown fretted the whole day. He was restless and worried. He kept on scrying for the little girl, making sure she was safe. It was in the mid-afternoon before he finally broke. Whirling all of the leftover supplies Magnhilde left, grabbing his cloak and summoning his staff and he decided that he could not leave the girl to her fate. Ravage flew off to wherever Magnhilde was, and Stool was placed on his shoulder. Outside of the little house, Rhown raised the wards, sealing the dwelling off. Sometimes, a Witch needs to take a hands-on approach.


End file.
